


Promise You Won't Hate Me

by hajne



Category: Columbine - Fandom, Historical Criminals RPF, Real Person Fiction, True Crime - Fandom
Genre: Bad BDSM Etiquette, Blow Jobs, Dirty Talk, Dylan is emotional, First Kiss, Fluff and Angst, Humiliation, Light BDSM, Light Bondage, M/M, sub dylan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-09
Updated: 2021-01-09
Packaged: 2021-03-12 17:53:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,295
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28639581
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hajne/pseuds/hajne
Summary: Dylan asks for what he wants. Or rather Eric makes him ask.
Relationships: Eric Harris/Dylan Klebold
Comments: 16
Kudos: 42





	Promise You Won't Hate Me

**Author's Note:**

> If you're uncomfortable with the fandom or with any of the tags, please, read something else. If you're not - enjoy!

Dylan let his body fall onto the mattress and whined. Some recent remarks at his expense popped into his mind as he did so, and he had to admit: _Those assholes aren‘t wrong. I am kind of pathetic._

He spent too much time lying like this, curled up like a fetus and staring at the chipped wall. He used to chip tiny pieces of the paint whenever melancholy absorbed him. Watching the white snowflakes of paint fall behind the bed oddly soothed him; they looked like small ghosts being trapped in that wall, and he was their merciful god setting them free.

A few hours passed since he had arrived from school and the dusk had already filled the room with shadows. As he was staring at the ruined wall, he noticed a piece of shinning paper peeking from behind the bed. He didn’t have to pull it out to recognize it. It was an embarrassing memento of his last birthday: a porn magazine Zack had given him with a grin that made him want to disappear from the face of the earth.

But there was no point in denying that he ran through the pages a couple of times. And once, just once, he jerked off to it.

The memory crept into his head and he cringed.

_*_

_It happened the second time he was flipping through the pages when he came across that picture. Literally, he came across that picture. The cursed page was now hardened with an opaque film, so anyone who would see it would know what exactly got Dylan into trouble._

_There was a gagged redhead in a doglike position. Her arms were tied behind her back, her ass, barely covered with black panties, high in the air, and her face pinned to the ground by almighty gravity, lipstick and mascara smudged. As he examined it, trying to decide whether it was hot or disturbing, his cock got hard so quickly it caught him by surprise. Before any sense of shame and inappropriateness had a chance to talk him out of it, he reached into his shorts and closed his eyes. As he was pumping his hand, he imagined having that redhead at his mercy, making desperate muffled noises, her eyes begging. He usually wasn’t very vocal while doing his business, only a small whimper (way too feminine in his opinion) usually escaped his lips as he came, but now...oh boy. Without thinking about it, he pressed his other palm to his lips to suppress the moans. And with that gesture, it struck him: This is how the girl must feel, being gagged, used, unable to protest. Maybe later she’ll get a cock in her mouth instead of that ball gag. What would that feel like? He imagined it, and without thinking about it he stuck two fingers deep into his mouth. And like that, with his eyes closed and choking on his own fingers, he came._

_As the waves of his orgasm receded, he became aware of where his mind had just wondered. He kept his eyes closed and wished he never had to open them again but when he finally did, the girl in the picture didn’t look helpless anymore: her eyes were mocking him, laughing at his curled up body and blond hair, at his fear of his own thoughts. ”You’re just like me...isn’t that true, big boy?“ she said. He threw the wet magazine behind the bed, making a vow to himself to never touch it again._

_Fuck._

*

The memory occupied him all through the dinner. He tried to reason with that judging voice in his head: _So what, I went crazy for a moment, people think about all sorts of weird stuff when they’re about to come, right? It’s been weeks already! It doesn’t mean I want to be tied or something, and it definitely doesn’t mean I ache for some guy’s cock in my mouth!_

Only that the idea of having a mouthful of cock made him shiver and the warmness down in his belly wasn’t the soup his mom made. _Jesus. I‘m doomed. I'm desperate for a cock._

“Are you alright, Dyl?“ his mom asked.

“Uh, yeah, just bit my tongue a little.“ Even that sounded weirdly sexual to his ears. He spent the rest of the dinner with eyes glued to the table.

It wasn’t until the bell rang downstairs that he remembered Eric was supposed to come over and watch some movies (and get a little drunk). Usually, they’d hang out at Eric’s basement, but he had said he needed to get out of the house, far from his dad probably. He just mentioned the title (a horror movie, of course: he had been a lot into them lately) and followed Dylan to his room.

They weren’t talking much. Both of them seemed to be lost in their own thoughts, just taking small but numerous sips of tequila. Dylan felt the warm waves of liquor washing away his problems and smiled.

Eric was immersed in the action on the screen, his fingers playing with the bottle cap. He was almost lying on the couch, knees wide apart, a lazy smirk on his face. _He looks so confident. Why doesn’t he have a girlfriend? He sure has good looks and no trouble asking for what he wants._ Dylan could easily imagine him making some girl do what he wants, like putting her on her knees and... His eyes wandered lower to Eric’s groin and he couldn’t help but stare at the bulge. He gulped dryly as he imagined himself in place of that no-name non-existent girl. He licked his lips but then forced himself to look away and crossed his legs to conceal his growing erection. Where the fuck did that come from? Those obsessive being-dominated-by-a-guy fantasies were bad enough, but putting his best friend in them? _Thanks, brain, you ruined my evening._

“Fucking hell, how stupid can you get?“ Eric burst out, making Dylan jump. ”Why the fuck do they always split ways, why don’t they stick together? Every fucking horror movie! They deserve to die if they’re _that_ stupid!“

Eric’s eyes were still glued to the screen and Dylan realized he hadn’t been paying attention to the movie at all. Something about a home invasion by a killing maniac? What was the title again?

“Isn’t that fucked up?“ When no answer came, Eric finally looked at him. ”Are you even watching that thing?“

“Uh, yeah, you’re right. It doesn’t make sense.“

But Eric didn’t sound very convinced with that answer. “What’s wrong? You look like shit.“

“Thanks, that made me feel better,“ Dylan chuckled.

"C’mon, spit it out.“

Dylan yanked the bottle out of Eric’s hand and sipped on the liquid, trying to find the right words without revealing too much. ”I don’t know...I think I’m weird.“

“No shit!“ Eric laughed out loud but stopped when he saw Dylan’s expression. He cleared his throat. "So...what is it?“

Suddenly, a voice in Dylan‘s head appeared: _'You know exactly what you want, but it’s not going to happen if you won’t tell him. And if you don’t, then don’t go complaining about how miserable your life is. What’s the worst that can happen?'_

_Yeah, what was the worst thing that could happen? Eric could get angry and disgusted with me. He might never speak with me again. Perhaps he’d beat me up and spit in my face._

For a brief moment, he allowed himself to imagine it. Eric slapping his face, spitting on it, calling him a fag...

_If it could end up like this, maybe it’s worth a try._

”You have to promise you won’t hate me.“

”Why? What have you done?“ He narrowed his eyes and studied him carefully. "You didn‘t sleep with my mom, did you?“ He laughed at his own joke again but froze when he didn’t get an answer.”What? You slept...?!“

“No, dude, gross! What’s wrong with you?“

“You‘re the one acting all weird!“

“ _Nevermind!_ “ Dylan almost shrieked. This was a bad idea. Noticing the silence (the TV was paused - when did that happen?), he quickly reached for the remote control to put an end to the conversation.

Eric’s fingers were faster, but instead of the remote control, they clenched around Dylan’s wrist.

Dylan's eyes widened and shot a startled look at Eric who, on the contrary, looked very calm. Except for his eyes.

Dylan jerked his wrist in an attempt to set himself free; was he really scared of his best friend? But Eric had foreseen that reaction and squeezed him even tighter, shaking his head with a smile that said: _That's not how it works._

He was grasping him pretty firmly, nails sinking into his skin. Shouldn’t the pain bother him? Shouldn’t the whole situation?

"You’re hard.“

 _Fuck._ A wave of shame that no liquor could soften washed over him. _When the hell did that happen? Is it the tequila? In sex-ed, they said that erection might be sometimes caused by completely random-_

”I always thought you’re kind of a painslut,“ Eric added casually as if remarking on the weather.

The word was like a slap. “No! It’s not what you think, it’s just...“ Just what? He couldn’t even look Eric in the face.

“Just what?“ Eric asked as if he had heard his thoughts. He still clutched him but his thumb made a small circle on the sensitive skin of its inner wrist.

Dylan drew in a breath and his lips parted slightly as he watched the gesture.

"What were you thinking about. When you were looking at me before.“ Eric’s now quiet voice reached his ears again, only this time it didn’t sound like a question. More like a command.

Dylan found the courage to look Eric in the eyes. They were dark and reminded Dylan of that movie about an exorcism they saw last week. "About your pants? They’re nice?“ he offered coyly. He felt like giggling at his own pathetic words. 

Eric released his wrist and gently stroked his cheek. Dylan blinked in surprise but leaned into the touch. To be honest, he expected a slap.

Which came a second later. Hard. Or perhaps the slap was not that hard, but shock made the impact seem sharper.

But before Dylan had a chance to react, Eric cupped his aching cheek and crushed their lips together. Dylan’s eyes widened in surprise but they fluttered closed again as Eric’s tongue invaded his mouth, making them both groan at the sensation. Eric devoured him almost brutally, bitting him and tugging at his hair, and that stinging pain and the taste of blood made him even harder. He was pliant in Eric’s hands, almost melting under the kiss and letting the other boy control him. All his rational thoughts were scattered like pearls spilled on the floor. Eric’s tongue tasting like tequila and blood, Eric‘s firm hand in his hair, Eric’s groans blending with his – those were the only things that mattered.

Eric broke the kiss without warning. His cheeks were flushed and he was breathing raggedly but the look he gave Dylan was somehow triumphant. He ran his thumb over the line of his wet lower lip and leaned to his ear.

"You’re gonna tell me,“ Eric whispered, "and I’ll give it to you. But no more lies or you’ll regret it.“ The hand on his scalp was caressing him as if he was a cat and Dylan almost purred.

He won’t lie. Not anymore.

"I-I was thinking about kneeling in front of you. About sucking you off,“ Dylan spilled out before his superego had a chance to stop him. An enormous relief came once the words were out. "Just...just _use_ me,“ he almost whined. Tears were gathering in the corners of his eyes and he didn’t know why, but he didn’t care. He looked at Eric. " _Please..._ “

Eric showed a smile that looked both proud and predatory. "Good boy.“

Dylan exhaled shakily at the praise. Eric slid his thumb between Dylan’s lips, and he sucked on it as if it was the most natural thing to do. For him, it really was. The sensation was so new and overwhelming he moaned around that thumb, like a whore. Eric couldn’t look away from Dylan’s lips and he knew just by the expression on his face that he was hard, too. Their lips met again, their kiss less brutal this time but desperate nevertheless.

All of sudden Eric got up and started to the door. For a moment, Dylan was afraid he’s going to flee the room but Eric just locked it. Oh. The fact that his parents wouldn’t like to see whatever was about to happen didn’t cross his mind till now. Although the idea of getting caught was not entirely unappealing.

When Eric returned, he didn’t sit back on the couch. "Get on your knees.“

Slightly shaking, Dylan put his knees on the floor, one at a time. Facing Eric’s thighs and groin and feeling his eyes on him, he felt small and vulnerable. He craved this, but there was also...fear? Primal fear. Some warning light went bright red in his head, ordering him to fight or flight. But he did not obey. He was obeying Eric now.

"Look at me.“

Dylan complied. Of course he did.

"Just so you know, I am going to fuck your mouth,“ Eric said, smiling.

The words made Dylan moan and close his eyes. They echoed in his ears as he tried to process them, to savor them. He’s going to get his mouth fucked, and not by just any guy but by Eric. He had never touched a guy before. Neither a girl, but he realized that that had never been on his wishlist anyway.

"Take off my belt.“

When Dylan’s trembling fingers finally managed to do so, Eric took the black stripe of leather from him and put it in a loop again in an elegant gesture. Then he leaned to Dylan and spoke slowly as if he was relishing the mocking words:

"I’m going to tie your wrist behind your back. I hope that you don’t mind because it isn’t really a question.“

He did as he promised, and when he looked at him again, Dylan tried to flinch away from his dark gaze, but he had nowhere to hide. He felt utterly exposed and defenseless. His cock twitched.

Eric unzipped his fly and reached into his black shorts. Slowly, he pulled his cock out, and Dylan’s own erection twitched at the sight. He started spreading the already leaking precum all over the thick lenght with lazy strokes and a heady scent fogged Dylan’s brain. Then he pressed the glans against Dylan’s lips.

 _I’m doomed_ , he thought as he parted his wet lips and took him in. The sensation of having his mouth invaded this way felt unfamiliar and the taste wasn't straight away pleasant but it soon became oddly satisfying. Probably some Freudian shit.

But then Eric surprised him by pushing in almost all his length in one thrust. Dylan gagged and tried to back off, but a firm hand held him in place.

"Shhh. You can take it, just relax your throat. Show me what a good fag you are.“

When Eric pushed in again, slowly this time, Dylan obeyed and tried to relax. The gag reflex was still there and rebelling, and a small lonely tear ran down his cheek, but even that felt somehow right, so fucking right.

Eric set a steady pace and Dylan let him invade his mouth again and again. He started loving the way his cock kept hitting the back of his throath as well as the sounds it elicited from Eric. _What would those fucking jocks say if they could see me right now?_ crossed his mind, and the idea made him moan around Eric’s cock.

"God, you look so fucking good on your knees, with my cock in your mouth...Just in a place where you belong.“

He could only hum in agreement. Even if he could talk, there was nothing left to say. Eric was pushing into his mouth at an increasing pace and his throat was sore but Dylan wouldn’t stop it even if he had the chance, which, of course, he hadn’t. The belt was biting into his wrists, reminding him that he had no power here. He was completely at Eric’s mercy and he loved it. He couldn’t help but move a little closer to Eric so his tented crotch ground against his leg, and even that clumsy stimulation made him whine desperately.

"Fuck...you really like this, don’t you?“ he heard a husky voice from above. „You’re such a slut.“

Dylan stopped in the middle of another grind. The words had sounded almost grossed out, had Eric finally come to his senses?

Eric suddenly pulled out of his mouth and yanked at his hair so he would face him. Dylan was a mess, looking up at him with glistening eyes, his parted lips covered with saliva and precum.

"Say it.“

Dylan just gaped at him and blinked, unable to comprehend those words in his current state.

"Say you’re a slut." Eric’s eyes were piercing him and he tried to look away, but that just got him a harder tug.

"I’m-I’m a slut!“ he sobbed at last.

Eric gave him a predatory grin. "And you're mine,“ he growled. He loosened the grip on Dylan's hair and his other hand grasped his cock. He started pumping it rapidly in front of Dylan’s face. "Open your mouth.“

Dylan complied and still looking up at him through his fluttering eyelashes, he stuck out his tongue.

"Oh, fuck...," Eric groaned at the sight, gave himself a few more erratic strokes, and soon he was coming on Dylan’s exposed tongue and lips in warm spurts.

As the last wave of orgasm seemed to leave Eric’s body he collapsed on the couch. Then remembered to untie Dylan’s aching wrists and helped him up, but after that, he leaned back and closed his eyes.

Dylan hesitantly seated himself next to Eric. He wiped the traces of spit and sperm off his lips and then just stared into space. Eric didn't move and could as well be asleep. _I craved this and it was amazing, so why do I feel like shit?_ He closed his eyes, too, afraid he might start crying. The bliss sure hadn’t last very long, and he didn’t even care that he was still achingly hard. Eric was there, within his arm’s reach yet so far, and Dylan was alone. Abandoned. Thoughts filled his head, one worse than the other. 

But then he felt soft lips on his. Eric cupped his cheeks and kissed him passionately, pressing his warm body to his. A hand found his way into Dylan‘s shorts and the sensation of someone else touching him, of Eric touching him, soon sent him over the edge.

He came moaning softly into Eric’s ear.

It took him some time to realize he was crying; his own tears caught him off guard.

"Hey...you okay?“ Eric was studying his face and wiped his cheek.

Dylan nodded but didn’t look at him. "Tell-tell me you don’t hate me,“ he finally said with a wavering voice, mostly to the floor.

"What?“ Eric sounded almost offended. "If I did, I wouldn’t be here anymore, right? Look at me.“ He gently guided Dylan’s chin toward him and gave him a kiss. "We‘re in this together. And... I’ll try to be less brutal next time, okay? But I can’t promise anything, you know me.“

Dylan didn’t say anything. He just buried his face in the crook of Eric’s neck and closed his eyes.

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fic ever, it's not beta-read, and English is not my first language, so please be nice or I'll tell my therapist. But feel free to comment, I crave some feedback! Also if someone would be willing to beta-read my future fics, I’d appreciate that a lot.
> 
> This is a piece of fiction, I do not condone any criminal and/or immoral acts. If you find yourself unhealthily fascinated by criminal behavior, please, seek help. Seriously. It’s a long journey but it’s possible to feel better.


End file.
